


Chicken Soup

by ami_ven



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: writerverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: “I didn’t realize Clint had company.”
Relationships: Clint Barton & Kate Bishop, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Kate Bishop & Phil Coulson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 124





	Chicken Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge "in sickness"

Kate pushed open the door to Clint’s apartment and dumped her duffel bag inside, then toed off her shoes, set her bow case carefully on the counter – and came face-to-face with the business end of a gun.

“Whoa!” she said, holding her hands up. “This isn’t – I’m not – are those Clint’s pajamas?”

The man wearing them was nondescript – middle-aged, not really tall or short, not classically handsome but not ugly, either – and he glanced down at his purple-and-lavender striped pants.

“My apologies, Miss Bishop,” he said, lowering the gun. “I didn’t realize Clint had company.”

“He doesn’t,” she said. “I mean, he wasn’t expecting me. And you’re not exactly dressed like a guest. So you must be Phil.”

Kate had never met Clint’s boyfriend – not that Clint _used_ the word ‘boyfriend’, but the way he talked about Phil was so disturbingly smitten that he couldn’t be anything else.

He smiled, then carefully put the safety on his weapon and set it on the counter next to her bow, tapping a finger against the case. “I should have recognized you by this alone.”

“Not that many archers in the Big Apple,” she agreed. “But – hey, are you okay?”

Phil had leaned suddenly against the counter, and as she started forward, Kate could see that his face seemed flushed and his plain t-shirt was sweat-soaked, despite the autumn chill. “Just a cold,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away when she pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Dude, you’re burning up,” said Kate. “Where’s Clint? How could he leave you here like this?”

“He’s walking Lucky,” Phil told her, a little defensively. “I told him I was fine.”

“Which apparently means the same thing as when he says it,” she grumbled. “You should be in bed.”

He snorted. “I was, until somebody broke in.”

“I have a key,” Kate protested.

“And I was a little hungry.”

“That, I can help with,” she said. “I can make, um…”

Phil smiled. “There’s instant chicken noodle soup in a cabinet, someplace. Can you boil water?”

“Yes, I can,” she told him. “Which means you can sit on the couch and let me at it.”

He tried to protest, but Kate was not above taking advantage of a man’s weakened condition and she had him bundled on the couch in only a few minutes, blinking at her as she pressed the TV remote into his hand. “I really should help,” said Phil.

“I got this,” said Kate, and for once it turned out to be true.

She had about the same culinary skill as Clint – that was, basically none – but even she could follow soup-making instructions that were basically to put the contents of the box in a bowl, microwave it, then stir and serve. She was just dishing up when the apartment door opened.

Lucky came bounding in and ran right to the couch, jumping into Phil’s blanket-covered lap.

“Aw, dog, no. Don’t bother—” Clint froze, halfway out of his hoodie. “Hey, Katie-Kate.”

She frowned, hands on her hips. “And what do you mean by leaving your boyfriend here all alone while he’s running a fever?”

Clint’s eyes widened. “I didn’t – he’s not – I just –”

“I _told_ you, I’m fine,” said Phil. He held out a hand, using the other to keep Lucky still, and Clint took it, still looking bewildered. “Have some soup.”

“Soup?”

Phil smiled and pulled him to sit on the couch. “Miss Bishop made it, so I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“It’s Kate,” she corrected. “And damn right it is.”

She passed around the bowls, then settled in next to Clint. He looked between them, then said, “If I’d known you were coming, Katie-Kate, I’d have given Phil a heads-up, so he didn’t pull his gun on you.”

“How do you know I did?” Phil asked, mildly.

“It’s on the counter,” said Clint. “I’ll put it away in a minute.”

“And I’ll put away the leftover soup,” said Kate.

“And you stay put!” they both chorused.

Phil laughed. “As if I could argue with _two_ over-protective archers,” he said. 

He was almost asleep by the time he finished his soup, and Clint wrapped Phil up in another blanket while Kate collected the empty bowls.

“Hey,” she said, softly. “I can go, if you need me to.”

Clint smiled and shook his head. “Nah.”

“Okay,” Kate agreed, then grinned. “Can I borrow your jammies, too?”

“Sure,” he laughed.

THE END


End file.
